


Powerless

by MunkUnk



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Fingering, Lube, M/M, dubcon, erik sexs charles with lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:22:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MunkUnk/pseuds/MunkUnk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik goes to visit Charles. Things go awkward.<br/>Warning for dub-con bordering non-con</p>
            </blockquote>





	Powerless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrapollo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrapollo/gifts).



"Desperate is a good look on you."

Never before had such words been directed at him from the man before him (once a friend; once an almost lover; once so much more than he is now, the potential to become so much more than he ever had been before, ever would become - now nothing but a shell of a human being; it was disturbing). Never before would he have expected them to be, either.

As few words as they were, they cut deeply and left him a shivering mess; strong hands gripped his upper arms and lifted him slightly off of the floor; forcing him up on the tips of his toes. His eyes were squeezed shut; he could not bear to look into those eyes; would not be able to take the weight that would be placed upon him should he. "Please. Stop." It came out a parody of an order; half a beg, half a command.

Flesh was soft; malleable under his fingers; it begged to be twisted; bruised; broken. It begged him to spill blood; to show that underneath that calm, impersonal demeanor there was still someone living - and he had already broken this man so many times before (but oh; he had never gone so far as to step over the line he was walking along now; never before had he laid hand upon this lovely pale skin; no matter how many times he had so been tempted to _touch_ ; to leave proof that he had been there) what more damage could he inflict, now?

A forced laugh crawled up the back of his throat; echoed through the hull of his helmet (people thought he didn't talk because he was a quiet person -which was partly true- but mostly he remained stoic; silent, because the helmet made headaches come on easier - or was that simply the way his mutation had been developing that was causing them? He wasn't sure; refrained from ever bringing it up because he was afraid of the inevitable pity; the _oh, he's getting weak_ ), causing the sound to echo back in his ears; making him dizzy; he leaned in slightly - he could smell the fear, the confusion rolling off of Charles in waves; it was intoxicating; arousing - "Are you scared?" he whispered in the other man's ear; tried to ignore the way he cringed away; as if the thought of being too close to him right now was disgusting.

Of course he was scared; what kind of asinine question was that?

Carefully he raised his hands and pressed them into Magneto's - no. This was still Erik; on some level. It had to be. He would not accept anything else - chest; the cool, cool metal of his alloy armour bit into Charles' palms, seeped into his bloodstream, and made him shiver, "I am concerned." he murmured, tried gently to push Magneto back; but the other man only tightened his grip on Charles' arms.

(The worst part of all of this was that Erik had reason to believe that Charles wasn't entirely truthful when he said he didn't want this; because his body was reacting positively to Erik's being pressed so close- and wasn't that wrong? Shouldn't his body be drawing away; curling in itself, and trying to tug away; he shouldn't be so pliable in Erik's hands; he shouldn't be hearing his breath hitch in his throat that way as Erik held him close)

" _Concerned?_ " Magneto asked, as he turned his head slightly, studied the line of Charles' jaw; carved it out with his eyes, and wondered what it would feel like to press an open mouthed kiss there, to the juncture where Charles' jaw met his ear; wondered what kind of noise Charles would make if he scraped his teeth against that lovely, lovely jawline; suckled at the flesh (pressed into Charles, backed him into the wall: Slid his hands up that back, rolled his hips into Charles' and cupped that pert little arse). But he couldn't (not yet), instead he shifted forward, hot breath ghosting across Charles' ear (coming in rapid chuffs; harder than they should be) "Surely not for _me_?" Erik whispered and he felt Charles tremble.

"Erik" Charles started, ignored the waver in his voice, "you can stop this, you can-" Erik gave him a sharp, short shake, and Charles let out an odd noise in the back of his throat, "P-please stop?" he whispered; stumbled when he was suddenly propelled backwards,

"Stop?" Magneto echoed, and Charles swallowed audibly, "Oh my dear old friend, I'm just getting started." it was half hiss, half whisper; and Magneto pressed Charles flat into the wall, "Why do you say such foolish things, Charles?" Erik whispered; and this time he did dip forward and awkwardly press a kiss to the juncture, and he was rewarded with a pleasurable little gasp; not necessarily pleasured, though (the helmet was biting into Charles' flesh painfully).

"What are you _doing?"_ Charles demanded, finally jerking against Magneto's hold on his wrists, because he was not going to let _that_ (and by _tha_ t he merely meant non- _consensual_ ) happen - and oh _God_ it _hurt_ to realize that this man pressing against him (how many times did he dream of this?) was _not his Erik anymore;_ this was someone else entirely; and he knew that now, and no matter how much he wanted to deny it to himself (defend him to the others) he knew he never would again- " _Stop!"_ he demanded; projected wildly; because his self denial ran deep, and he thought that if he could just get through to Erik than everything would be okay (knowing, though, that it never could be, again).

"Do not struggle." Erik whispered, ignored Charles' frustrated sound of protest, "I won't hurt you, Charles. I never wanted to hurt you." there was something soft about his voice _\- Erik_ Charles' mind screamed _Erik please!_ \- that was out of place when one took in the helmet; the dark, dark uniform; the cold expression; the kisses that scorched Charles' skin; burned it right off of his face;

But you have hurt me Charles wanted to say; scream until his throat bled, because didn't Erik realize what he was doing? Didn't he realize that everyday Charles hurt a more; bled a little more; cried a little less; cracked, and cracked, and shattered under the weight of _you should have been enough; you should have held onto him; you should have reached further; you should have loved him more; you should have tried harder._

It didn't seem to matter how he struggled, though (and even if he could get his arms free just by the strength in his arms, Erik was still more powerful; Erik was still _Magneto_ ; Erik was still going to hurt him; Erik was still going to use the whole room to his advantage; and Charles wanted to scream over how unfair this was), Magneto kept his wrists firmly in place; moved them up, pressed Charles' arms to the wall above his head, and Charles heard something creaking; heard a clattering and expected the metal to press into his wrists; pin them to the wall before it did. "Erik _please_ " Charles whispered; desperate suddenly, "there will be no turning back, if you do this."

A strange laugh curled around Erik's tongue, and he shook his head slightly as he drew back; his lips curling into a sneer, "Still on about that peace nonsense, Charles?" Charles swallowed thickly, and Erik kicked his feet apart; the suddenness of the movements upset Charles' balance, and his weight dropped against the metal bindings against his wrists; hissing he carefully straightened, but before he could close his legs Erik was pressing into him; fingers curling around Charles' neck gently as he tilted the other mans head up, so that he could look into his eyes (Charles felt the zip of his trousers vibrate slightly; knew it went down).

"Haven't you realized yet, Charles? Will you _ever_?" remaining silent because he knew no matter what he said Erik was going to continue, "Peace was never an option." Charles wanted to scream; wanted to hit Erik; wanted to tell him that he _was erroneous! Peace is always an option_ Charles thought vehemently; felt his projections hit a smooth, smooth surface and slide down, into nothing.

"Don't touch me, Magneto." Charles whispered; and the words burned in his mouth, curled, and crisped; foul; bitter sweet, sour; ashes of the life he had once led; the love he had once known (or thought he had).

But the words of defeat; the admittance that this was Magneto, and not Erik, didn't have the effect Charles had hoped for.

As Magneto let out a shuddering sigh he pressed harder into Charles; breathed his scent in, and reluctantly breathed out, "Why?" he whispered, and his hands shifted away from Charles' neck, ran down his chest, "Are you not enjoying it?" he murmured; but he did draw back; and unbuttoned Charles' pants,

" _Stop_!" Charles demanded; made to kick Magneto only to have metal lash around his ankles, and have Magneto tsk at him,

"Dear me" Magneto drawled, raised his hand and caught the letter opener that had flipped up from the desktop, "I expected you to behave so much better, Charles. Don't you want a treat?" there was something in his tone that told Charles treat wasn't the right word; at all.

" _I said stop!"_ Charles hissed; glared into Magneto's eyes (tried not to remember the times he used to be able to stare into those eyes for hours across a chessboard; how desperately he had longed to do just that after Erik had walked away from him; after he had taken Raven away from him),

"No." Magneto said simply, and gripped the handle of the letter opener tightly as he eyed Charles in a way that made his skin crawl,

"Magneto don't."

But Magento wasn't listening, and when he shifted forward Charles' eyes closed despite himself; but he knew he couldn't look into the eyes of Magneto (the eyes that belonged to Erik) when the blade hit flesh; spilled blood.

But it didn't pierce flesh; didn't draw blood. Magneto was- was-

Cutting his pants, and boxers off.

Forcing his eyes open Charles dropped his gaze to where Magneto was meticulously peeling his now ruined (or… not? Magneto had cut them along the seams? But why?) trousers away, to toss them to the side, "Stop!" Charles said, ignored the pitch to his voice (the fear?) as Magneto sliced away his briefs, too (the tip of the blade scraped his skin, sent a shiver through him that made him want to close his eyes against it).

"Calm down, Charles." Magneto cooed, and Charles wanted to scream; but he settled for swallowing audibly as Magneto shifted to his knees, the metal wrapped around Charles' ankles moved up his calves; coiled up around his thighs; lifted his feet from the floor - put serious strain on his wrists, which he was sure was going to make him cry, because it _hurt_ \- and bent his legs at the knees; hinged him open. Carefully Magneto's gloved fingers ghosted over the skin between coils of metal, and seeming to sense Charles' discomfort, he glanced up and frowned, "I'm terribly sorry." he drawled as a strip of metal suddenly lashed around Charles' abdomen, hoisted him up; and buried itself into the wall at his back, keeping the pressure off of his wrists, which was little relief considering the situation.

"Please, Magneto, please stop?"

Once again Magneto ignored him, and Charles let out a frustrated half sob when he felt Magneto's lips press into his thigh, felt the bite of the helmet in his tender flesh. When Magneto's fingers next touched his thigh the gloves were gone, and Charles shivered (once he had dreamed about those fingers; once he had dreamed of the many, many ways they could unravel him, and make him beg; once he had been willing to beg) closed his eyes tightly, and tried, and tried to push past those cold steel defenses of Magneto's helmet; and as usual, could not.

Feeling as if things were spiraling desperately out of his hands; completely out of control, Charles tried to shut his mind off from _this_ ; to ignore it (was starting to realize that this; the feeling of being powerless, completely at Magneto's mercy was… turning him on.), but found that the more he tried to ignore it, the more he noticed Magneto's lips on his skin; the scrape of his teeth, the brush of his fingers.

Unable to speak, or really think, Charles was suspended there, completely at Magneto's mercy.

Drawing back slowly Magneto glanced up at Charles, ran his eyes over the curve of Charles' throat where he was tipping his head back against the wall; keeping his eyes shut. Sliding two fingers into his mouth Magneto gave them a slow suck, as he laved at them with his tongue slowly, still watching Charles; watching the tension drain slowly, slowly from the lines in his face where he was trying so hard not to look like he was enjoying it; and drew his fingers from his mouth as Charles opened his eyes and stared into nothingness for a moment, before dropping his gaze to Magneto (which caused something lodged in Magneto's breast to shift, thud, and pound painfully). As soon as Charles' eyes were fixed on him Magneto grinned wickedly, and Charles felt his stomach grow cold with dread; reaching forward Magneto kept his eyes locked on Charles' and slowly, carefully pressed his fingertips against Charles' anus; which made the other man tense; and ignoring that tension Magneto pressed his finger in slowly, watched the shock spread across Charles' features, and just grinned.

Remaining where he was (not like he had much of a choice) Charles just stared, his jaw going slightly slack as Magneto's finger moved up, further inside of him, and Charles wasn't sure how he should react (screaming sounded good), so he remained silent (wishing he could reach out and punch Magneto - _Erik_ \- square in the jaw; _how dare he_?).

When it became clear that Charles wasn't going to do anything Magneto smirked, and drew his finger out slowly, before pushing it back in; as he repeated this motion several times he could see the tension leaking out of Charles; he could see a soft glow of heat pooling in his eyes, carefully Magneto pushed a second finger in, and this time Charles whispered, "P-please, Erik…"

Of course that whisper was completely arbitrary.

So, Magneto took it as he wanted; and pushed his fingers in (a little harder than necessary), and curled them just so; and put slight pressure on Charles' prostate, eliciting a soft gasp, a flutter of eyelids, his head tilted back against the wall. Taking that as encouragement Erik started to move his fingers in and out of Charles, once again; a little faster than before.

His own body was trembling with the desire to press into the other man (but wouldn't that hurt him? Maybe it didn't matter at this point; Charles had resigned himself to believing that Magneto wanted to kill him; so what would one, embarrassing little trip to the hospital amount to?), so he dropped his free hand down to unbutton, and unzip his own pants; pulling his erection out with - a slightly trembling hand - Erik spit into the palm of his hand; and realized his mouth was dry. He wouldn't be able to slick himself enough to make this… enjoyable.

For a moment Magneto felt mildly frustrated; until he remembered, this was Charles' office. And Magneto knew for fact the other man kept condoms, and - assuming he still did - _lubricant_ in his desk drawer (he knew this because back when he was Erik he had often gone through Charles' desk _just because he could.)._ Dropping his hand down to wrap his fingers around his erection, Magneto glanced back at the desk; carefully unlocked the drawer, carefully pulled it out - it was difficult controlling the drawer without dropping it, because there was so little metal on it; so he speared the letter opener through the sides to make it easier - and ferried it over, to drop down beside him. Dropping his eyes to the contents of the drawer as he spread his fingers inside Charles slowly, Magneto tentatively drew his hand away from his own penis and reached into the drawer to pluck the small white tube of KY jelly out. _Thankfully_ Charles' habits hadn't changed much.

Reluctantly Magneto pulled his fingers out of Charles, and the small whimper Charles let escape him at the loss of them went straight to Magneto's already engorged penis, and made him let out a chuff of breath _; that sound was intoxicating._ Carefully slicking himself (and forgoing the condom; because Charles' were too small), Magneto leaned forward and took Charles' now semi erect penis into his mouth, and started to suck, which earned him a low moan from the other man (a little annoyed at the fact that he wasn't well-versed about this subject enough to take Charles' penis fully into his mouth, Magneto shifted forward slightly; and took it in enough to nearly cause him to gag).

After a moment of sucking Magneto drew back, a little breathless, and climbed eagerly to his feet, as he slipped between Charles' legs, and pressed into the other mans body; and used a hand to line the head of his penis up with Charles' anus, and lightly pressed a kiss to Charles' shoulder, before thrusting up into him; grateful for the moan that escaped Charles because that meant he was doing something right, Magneto let himself adjust to the tight heat (not so much as let the muscles tightened, almost painfully around him, adjust to the intrusion) before he started to move his hips.

A soft whimper tore its way free from his throat, and Charles closed his eyes, breathed deeply; and tried to ignore the _wantneed_ pounding through his veins, and pounding in his temples; making him deaf to anything but the fact that Magneto - _Erik_ \- was thrusting into him; breathing him in, and almost choking he held the breath so long; afraid to be rid of the smell (taste).

Though he should be, Charles wasn't mad. He wasn't even upset (he would be later, he knew).

Because this meant that somewhere in there, behind the steel walls drawn up around that gorgeous mind; somewhere in that cold, cold expression; behind that icy gaze; Erik was waiting. Erik was still there. And there was still good in _Magneto_.

He could still be saved.

If Charles was willing to reach for him this time, he knew Erik would reach back.

_Oh Erik, Erik I love you, I love you; I love you; please come back to me; please come home._

The only problem with reaching, and hoping to find that hand reaching back, was the fact that Charles' fingers wouldn't uncurl; and his hand wasn't outstretched and waiting; not anymore.

He had given up hope; and hope had given up on him.


End file.
